I feel out of place
in the summertime-
oversized and awkward,
forcing smiles that
crack and peel
and pretending
that I am bold
that I am unaffected
that I am ready
as I shove black thoughts
back down into
silent fissures.

Now fall is creeping in
with great grey plumes
of september clouds
and all of those slippery
dark thoughts bubble up
and out to settle
in every corner.

And I vacillate
from mind-numbing
sorrow and overwhelming
exhaustion to
glittering highs
from the beauty of it all-
the contrast is acutely
melancholic and
sweet at once.

I pour out feelings
that stick to my canvas
and make love
in shallow pools
of moonlight
and smile at something
that feels real
and I am bold
I am unaffected
I am ready.

somtimes I dream about flowers
about their golden petals
and their green leaves
how they're swaying
in the soft wind

but do the flowers dream about me?
about my golden hair
and my blue eyes
how I'm swaying
under all that pressure?

do they see me in their dreams
how I'm crumbling
under all this weight
like they would
under heavy rain?

I like to think they do
just like I dream about them
and maybe just like I marvel at them
they see beauty in me too

sometimes I dream about flowers
and sometimes flowers dream about me

Always:
try {
       your best and;
       do {
       what you need to do;
       } while (you still have the time);

       for (opportunity; comes; only ones) {
              so grab the chance;

       }
  if  (you fail)
       throw "all your worries";
    } catch (yourself) {
          everytime you fall;
          and you know to Whom
          you should goto always;

Greasy hair tied back
pink scrunchies haphazardly holding together the unbrushed strands
rosemary mint chapstick smeared between lips and lips and lips on lips
backseat bouncer, I'll leave when the dance is done
The same type of ***** this visual you get when you watch the sky turn in the AM
pink, blue, green, gold, gone
shoes off in hand, feet itch on concrete
to corner store barely open fifteen minutes
cherry coke slushies are so good at 7AM  
how dare you preach to me calling me
"Honey, Baby Girl, Peach"
listen to me for a change
Im no lesser than you because I prefer to live like wind
with a here today gone tomorrow mindset
It wasn't love, this isn't love
wont answer your calls, at school a nod in the halls,
baby my motto is pitstops and pitfalls
a brief rest for restoration, then back to hopping barbed wire fences
I don't mean to be mean but this is the last you'll see of me for a long time
because Love isn't real and if it is she took it with her

What is love?

Sweet nectar on poisoned lips;
Or ripened fruit on curious tongues.

Is love sealed with a righteous kiss;
Or is love selfish and stealing,
Hidden away for all to miss.

Does love see no bounds or limitations?
In awe of you; of your beauty.
Is love a relentless invasion?
On a four horsed chariot poisoned with cruelty.

Will love die for you; with you,
Take your last embrace.
Or will love trick you; take you,
To end the long, lonely chase.

When all is said and all is done;
pomegranate and poison are both written in fame;
Sweet and bitter,
But love all the same.